The Wolf's Lieutenant: Prologue
by Wolfstorm33333
Summary: The beginning of the journey of my Dark Souls character, Morgan, lieutenant of Artorias. This is the prologue, and it covers the events leading up to Morgan waking up in the cell in the undead asylum, starting all the way back when she was six years old. My first fanfic, so please, R&R. Rated M for violence. This IS Dark Souls after all.


**Hello there Internet! This is the prologue to the Dark Souls 1 fanfiction I am currently planning to write about my character, Morgan. However, I am planning to make this fanfic go quite a bit deeper than simply narrating the average playthrough. It is for this reason that I am writing this prologue.**

 **The prologue will be telling the story of Morgan's life up until the beginning of Dark Souls 1, when she leaves her cell in the Undead Asylum. This will be my first fanfiction, and it's gonna be a challenging one. So please, R &R, but I'd appreciate it if the criticism remained constructive.**  
 **So, without further ado, here is chapter 1 of the prologue! Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Souls or any of its characters, except Morgan and the people of her village.  
**

* * *

Morgan winced as the medicine was applied to her burns. The village healer had long since stopped being gentle with her, hoping that the pain would finally dissuade her from being so reckless.

She had been caught for the third time this month. Morgan had managed to sneak away with another pyromancy glove, and had been experimenting with it again, when she lost control of the flames and accidentally burned her hands.

She had tried to hide it, but the village healer, an elderly woman named Romah, had caught her before she could get back to her hut.

"When will you learn, child? Pyromancy is far too dangerous for a six-year-old, no matter how much natural talent you might have," Romah scolded. "If you keep this up, you are going to seriously hurt yourself!"

"But I'm getting better! I already figured out combustion and fireball, and I got really close to- OW!" Morgan was cut off by the sting of the medicine being applied to her other hand. She sucked in her breath and screwed her eyes shut. It hurt, but she refused to cry.

"What you got close to was charring your hands! If your burns had gone any deeper, I may not have been able to help you! Pyromancy is dangerous enough; trying to teach yourself is just asking to get hurt!"

Morgan looked up at the woman indignantly. "Then let someone teach me!"

Romah let out an exasperated sigh. There was no getting through to this girl. She was just too stubborn. "I've told you a hundred times, you are too young! Your body can't handle it yet! If you try to use pyromancy too much, you will burn yourself to a crisp."

Romah finished bandaging Morgan's other hand as she spoke, her hands moving with quick, practiced movements. Morgan lowered her head, an annoyed expression on her face. She had heard that particular advice far more than she would have liked.

Romah's expression softened, and she held one of Morgan's hands, which already hurt a bit less, between her own. "Morgan." The girl did not lift her head. "Morgan, look at me."

Morgan lifted her head. There was a single tear of frustration rolling down her cheek. _Stop crying!_ Morgan thought to herself, _Crying is for children!_

Romah wiped the tear off of Morgan's face. "I know it's frustrating. You're easily as smart as someone twice your age. But your body is just too young, too easily hurt. You must have patience child. You will learn pyromancy one day. But not before you are ready."

But Morgan would not be persuaded. "But I have to learn as soon as I can!"

Romah was confused by the girl's desperation. "Why are you in such a hurry, child? You have your whole life to learn. That is plenty of time! You have many, many years ahead of you, so what is your rush?"

Morgan puffed her chest out proudly. "I've decided that I want to be a knight!"

Romah was surprised. This was the first she had heard of this. "A knight?"

Morgan nodded excitedly, seemingly forgetting her frustration. "Yeah! Like Artorias! But if I want to be a knight, there's lots I have to learn! So I gotta start early if I wanna have enough time!"

The old woman smiled sadly at this. It definitely explained the young girl's thirst for knowledge, but Romah knew that there were very few pyromancers among any nation's knights, as they were seen as heretics by most outside of the Great Swamp. And even if there were pyromancers, none of them were female. In Romah's mind, the odds of Morgan actually becoming a knight were nonexistent, but the old woman didn't have the heart to disillusion the young girl.

"Is that so? Well then, that's all the more reason that you must be patient."

Morgan looked at the woman, puzzled. "Huh?"

Romah smiled, that got her attention. "Being a knight is difficult, and requires one to be in peak physical condition. You also have to know your limits. I'm sure that even Artorias is careful not to push himself too far. If you go too far and hurt yourself too badly now, then how will you learn to fight? You can't hold a sword if you can't use your hands."

Morgan lowered her head, deep in thought. She was silent for a few minutes. This may have been the longest Romah had seen the energetic girl sit still in a long time.

After a few moments, Morgan looked back up, a defeated expression on her face. "Ok..." she said finally.

Romah smiled and pulled Morgan into a hug. Morgan couldn't help but smile as she returned the hug. Romah was the closest thing to a parent Morgan had, and she often referred to her as Auntie Romah. And Romah felt a similar affection for Morgan, even if the girl was far too stubborn for her own good most of the time.

Romah released Morgan from the hug. "All right, now run along dear, and no more pyromancy. I hate seeing you hurt yourself."

Morgan smiled at the elderly woman and said, "Yes ma'am!" before running out of the healer's hut. Romah just chuckled and shook her head. She had a feeling that she would be doing this again before the end of the month. _That girl is incorrigible,_ Romah thought as she watched Morgan run off into the village.

* * *

By the time she got out of Romah's hut, the sun had almost completely set. As she ran through the village, she greeted almost everyone she met. The village was like one big family, and all of them adored Morgan.

Morgan was technically a foreigner, found as an infant in the arms of a dying woman near the village who had begged the villagers to save her child. The villagers, of course, took her in, but they were unable to do anything for her mother. When she passed, they gave her a proper burial just outside the village.

The villagers quickly took a liking to Morgan, and they worked together to raise her as their own. She was hard to dislike, with her bright and curious amber colored eyes and her radiant smile.

As she ran by the butcher's shop, she saw the butcher, Muston, beckoning her over.

"Oi, Morgan! Come on over here, I got somethin' for ya!" he called. Muston was a bear of a man, standing taller than any of the other villagers. He had a great brown beard and a bald head, with a scar running vertically across his left eye. To most outsiders, and even some of the villagers, he looked rather intimidating. It didn't help that, due to his work, he was often covered in all sorts of grime, though right now he was closing shop for the day, so he had already washed himself. Even so, he was an imposing man, capable of intimidating even experienced warriors.

But not Morgan. When he called her over, she smiled brightly and ran straight over to him, tackling him in a hug. The man laughed heartily and returned with a bear hug, lifting Morgan off the ground, much to the girl's delight. While Muston looked intimidating, and was certainly strong enough to wrestle a bear, he was an incredibly jovial and kind man, and Morgan knew it.

"P-put me d-down!" Morgan managed to get out between giggles. Muston chuckled and set her down. It was then that he noticed the bandages on her hands. The man, still smiling, sighed and shook his head.

"Yeh just don' learn, do yeh squirt?" he said in his thick accent, playfully flicking her forehead. His accent was an oddity in the village, considering he was a native of the Great Swamp. When asked, he simply says he likes how it sounds.

Morgan covered her head with her hands, pouting up at the giant of a man. Muston chuckled. "Well, I'm sure yeh already got lectured by Romah, so I'll leave it at that. Just don' go hurtin' yerself too badly, all right lass?"

"Yes, sir!" Morgan said, not sounding the least bit convincing.

Muston shook his head, still smiling, and walked around behind the counter. Morgan, who had already guessed what the butcher had for her, perked up, following him with her eyes. He returned with a delicious-looking cut of venison, cooked to perfection.

Morgan's eyes lit up immediately; venison was her favorite. The butcher often cooked some for her whenever the hunters brought back a deer, and he would give it to her as her dinner.

Morgan accepted the meat, thanking Muston excitedly. Muston just laughed, patted her head, and sent her on her way.

As she was leaving, she ran into Brunloc, the leader of the village's huntsmen. He was a younger man, in his mid-twenties. He had a permanent scowl on his face, and an attitude to match.

He ignored Morgan and went straight to Muston. Morgan wasn't particularly fond of Brunloc. He had little patience for her, and often simply ignored her. He didn't hate her, so she supposed it could be worse, but still.

"Muston. I assume you heard about the de-" Brunloc hesitated, glancing back at Morgan. "-about what the hunters saw today?"

Muston looked at Morgan. "Run along, lass. This is nothin' fer yeh to worry 'bout."

Morgan realized that they would not talk further until she left. Reluctantly, she walked out of the door, and headed home.

Finally, she came to her hut. Like the other huts in the village, it was little more than a simple dome. It had a wooden door with a simple lock, less for protection and more for privacy. Inside, there were two windows, one on the left and one on the right, both of which could be closed via a simple wooden door. Under the window on the right was her bed; on the left was a simple desk and a chair. As soon as she was inside, she went straight to her desk and started reading while she ate her dinner, careful not to get anything on the pages.

Morgan loved to read. Despite only being six years old, she was already reading better than some adults. Because of this, some people in the village called her a genius, but in reality, she simply loved it, and for that reason, she got a great deal of practice every day.

Her desk was stacked with many books, some written by the other villagers about pyromancy, and many others that were traded with other lands. Whenever traders came to the village, Romah would buy her one book of her choice, assuming it wasn't too expensive. Some were fiction, others non-fiction. It mattered little to Morgan. She loved learning new things just as much as she loved reading stories of knights on grand quests. But her favorite so far was the book she was reading now. It was a record of the many deeds of the Four Knights of Gwyn.

Gwyn was the current king of Lordran, and he had four knights that were above all of the others: Dragonslayer Ornstein, Hawkeye Gough, Lord's Blade Ciaran, and Morgan's personal favorite, Artorias the Abysswalker.

Before finding this book on a merchant's cart, she had never even heard of the Four Knights of Gwyn, but now that she had, she was completely engrossed in the tales of their accomplishments, especially those of Artorias.

Artorias' race, referred to by most simply as "gods" due to their immense power, were, for the most part, not overly fond of humans. Artorias, however, was one of the few that actually liked humans, claiming that there must be more to them but pure darkness, as many of the other gods believed.

Artorias was the main inspiration for Morgan to become a knight. Smart as she was, she was quite aware that Lord's Blade Ciaran was currently the only female knight in existence, but this did not dissuade her. She was determined to be the second.

Morgan tied back her long black hair in a ponytail, as she always did when she was reading. As her amber eyes went back and forth on the page, she ate her dinner until she had finished it all.

As the sun went down, it became harder to read. She looked at her hands and flexed them. Not feeling any pain, she decided to remove her bandages. Her hands had already mostly healed, thanks to the incredibly potent burn medicine that Romah had created long ago. It was capable of healing minor burns within an hour, and moderate burns in two. It was the perfect medicine for a village of pyromancers. All that was left of her burns was some lingering sensitivity, but even that was fading.

She grabbed a candle, and held it in her hand for a moment, just looking at it.

Using pyromancy without a pyromancy glove was not an uncommon ability, but it was much weaker. In fact, without a glove, even a master could do little more than make a small flame in their hand, never enough to be useful in a fight. As it was, Morgan was able to make small sparks at one of her fingertips without a glove. It may not be much, but for her age, this was an incredible display of talent.

She held her finger close to the wick of the candle and repeatedly created sparks, a look of complete concentration on her face, until the candle finally lit. Smiling in satisfaction, she put the candle in its stand, and went back to reading.

She did not look up until around midnight, when her eyes started to force themselves shut. Reluctantly, she decided it was time to go to bed. She closed the window above her desk and went over to her bed.

As she was about to close the window above her bed, she noticed movement in the village. It was difficult to see with only the moonlight illuminating the village, but she was able to make out a group of men standing just outside the village. They were building what looked like fortifications, but Morgan decided she was simply seeing it wrong.

Why would they build fortifications? Nothing in the swamp is dangerous enough to warrant that. She shrugged, and decided that she would find out in the morning, and closed her window.

She laid down in her bed, her mind still thinking about Artorias and the other knights. _One day,_ she thought to herself, _I'll be as strong as them. I'll become a knight and prove that I can be as strong as any man. No, even stronger._ Her eyes began to drift shut. _One day..._ She fell asleep to the sounds of the swamp, dreaming of the future. But when she woke...

She woke to screams.

* * *

 **A/N: All right, prologue chapter one down.**

 **To be honest, not only is this my first fanfiction, it is actually the first multi-chapter story I have ever written. The challenges I ran into writing the first chapter were not the challenges I was expecting to encounter, but I think I persevered rather well. I also realized that this fanfic is going to be much longer than I expected.**

 **Again, please leave a review. Constructive criticism is appreciated, so long as it stays constructive.**

 **Til next time!**


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